Something Conventional
by Joki-chan
Summary: When the story went mainstream it was met with fear and outrage. Micaela Casey had been arrested, tried, and found guilty of murder. No one told Micaela's story. No one wanted to. T-Bag/OC
1. Chapter 1

When the story went main stream, it was met with fear and outrage. Micaela Casey was only seventeen, and the picture of her that the media favored made her look almost as batshit insane as Charles Manson. Her hair was long and ratty, hanging in her face. One wide eye was exposed, her grin was wide enough to rival the Joker's, her shoulders were hunched, and she was wringing her hands like a mad scientist. The photo had been taken as she was led from her home, sandwiched between a police officer and her lawyer. Her dainty wrists were cuffed, and she had looked directly into the camera.

Micaela Casey had been arrested, tried, and found guilty of the murder of her own mother. The prosecutor had had his way, and she'd been tried as an adult. Any newspaper or program would tell you the story of Cheyenne Casey, loving mother killed in cold blood by her only daughter. No details of her death were released; the only words they would use to describe the scene were synonyms for words like "brutal" and "horrific."

No one told Micaela's story. No one wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or events in Prison Break.

Also, the guest who reviewed: I really am not sure if that was a flame or not so... I'm just gonna assume it wasn't. Enjoy.

* * *

Micaela Casey didn't like the quiet of the bus, broken only by a sneering guard or the whine of the tires. She didn't like it because it reminded her of road trips with her family. She straightened in her seat, peeking a look at the guards. None of them were as big as her gentle giant of a father. Her interest wavered. Did she want to make waves now, with these transfer guards? No, she really didn't.

She slouched back down as the bus kept on.

When the bus finally rolled to a stop, she'd begun to contemplate strangling herself with her own cuffs. She shuffled off the bus with the rest of the in-mates, being prodded forward with nightsticks. Fox River Pen loomed over her.

As the other in-mates were led to the showers, she was held back.

"Pope wants to see you."

Micaela's brows shot up as she turned to the guard who stopped her. "Pope Benedict XVI? And here I'm not even _Catholic_."

He scowled. "The _Warden_."

Micaela allowed herself to be dragged up to the big man's office. There was a guard chatting up the secretary. A female secretary. Micaela's eyes swept the room. If she was quick, she could get around both guards, launch herself over the desk, and have her chains around the woman's neck before anyone knew what was happening.

A hard knock to the small of her back distracted her, and she was directed into the warden's office. She sat in front of him, not particularly interested.

"Due to special circumstances, you, Micaela Casey, are the first and only female in-mate here at Fox River."

"Understood." Her fingers tapped against her knee.

"Due to crowding, you will have a male cellmate. We've given you a separate shower time, but all else you will perform with the rest of the in-mates."

"Alright," she agreed.

The warden sighed, looking weary. "After you get cleaned, you will be inspected by Dr. Sara Tancredi. You will receive monthly check ups for all the time you're here."

Micaela flinched at that. "I see."

"I want to wish you luck, Casey. God knows you'll need it." And with that, that warden dismissed her.

She was led back to the showers, where she stripped naked and was doused with a hose while the guards laughed. They took their time watching her before throwing the delousing powder on her and handing over a uniform. She stepped out of sight to dress, putting on the white panties, the bra she'd worn in, a pair of blue pants, and a tank top. She wriggled her bare toes, feeling her cheeks smolder. Imagining being unaffected by her nudity in front of the guards and actually being unaffected were two different things. She pulled a denim shirt on and approached the guards.

A burly guard guided her to Gen Pop, a wide smirk on his face.

"Heard you killed your momma."

"What a fan_tastic_ way to start the conversation," she remarked. "But you would be correct."

They reached the door, and the guard turned to tower over her. "Why someone would murder the person that gave them life, I don't know. I don't really care. Just know I've got my eye on you, and if these convicts don't make your life a living Hell, then I will."

Micaela scowled but said nothing. She was led into the belly of the beast.

"Introducing Micaela Lee Casey," he yelled, guiding her. "You girls take real good care of her."

As she entered her cell, cat calls and obscenities falling around her, her brows furrowed. The man – it _was_ a man, right? – was wearing eye shadow to his brows and pink lipstick. His thinning hair was styled in a sad comb over and it looked like he'd given himself a mole on the apple of his cheek. His tank top was tied as his waist, and his sweatpants were rolled down to reveal cheap pink women's underwear.

The cell door closed behind her.

The man – oh, God, she really wasn't sure – scrutinized her and then moved her out of the way of the bars to take her place.

"Honey," he began, "don't get a big head. Those calls are for me, understand?"

"Yeah," she muttered. "What's your name? I'm Micaela."

Again, that scrutinizing eye. "Jamie. You got bottom bunk."

She sat slowly, understanding why he was dressed as he was. He was trying to popularize himself as a prison bitch by looking feminine. Micaela sighed and sprawled out on her bunk, listening to the other in-mates. Lights out came soon afterward.

Micaela was nearly asleep when she realized she hadn't had her check up.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Prison Break.

Thanks to those who've watched or favorited.

Also, I feel I should mention I'm not trying to make light of serious things like rape, imprisonment, etc. Trust me, things will get very dark here.

* * *

Micaela jolted awake when she heard the door to her cell open. She rubbed her eyes and rolled over, groaning.

"Casey, you got an appointment with the doc." The gruff voice was the same from the night before, the guard who'd threatened her.

He was probably a momma's boy.

She sat up and glared, her hair falling her face just like the press liked. The guard didn't flinch, not even when she stood abruptly and approached him. She imagined he felt safe behind his badge and uniform.

He sneered at her, placing cuffs around her wrists and then pushing her forward. He guided her toward the infirmary, finding it empty upon their arrival.

"On the bed." Her cuffs were undone and she was pushed toward the mattress before she could reply. She stumbled, catching herself on the edge before she could hit the floor.

"Do I need to be afraid of rape right now?"

Micaela got no response as she lay down. The guard immediately had cuffs, binding both her arms to the bed. She sucked in a deep breath, fighting to hide her fear.

"The hell is this? I'll scream, dammit!" She rattled the chains, but the guard ignored her as he left.

The infirmary was silent except for her heavy breathing. She really didn't want to get raped. Maybe she'd made a bad decision or two. Well, it wasn't as if she didn't have time to reflect on her life now.

"Micaela Casey?"

"The one and only at Fox River," she replied, looking past her chest to see the doctor.

She was thin, with brown hair and eyes to match. Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, and her brows furrowed as she looked at a manila folder. She looked up at see Micaela watching her closely.

"I'm Doctor Sara Tancredi. I guess I'll be giving you an exam," she said, setting the folder down before closing the shades and locking the door.

"What kind of exam?"

"The kind that would normally be administered by a gynecologist."

Micaela sputtered and tried to sit up, her face aflame and her jaw dropped. "What? _Why_?"

"It's so we know if you become victim to any sexual assault," Dr. Tancredi explained, pulling on a pair of gloves. "I'm going to remove your pants and underwear, alright?"

"Um, well, yeah, I guess."

Goosebumps rose on her legs once her pants were gone. She squirmed and shut her legs when her underwear was removed. She was sure she'd pass out with all the blood in her head.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Micaela. You're safe here."

It eased Micaela's spirits that the doctor sounded about as embarrassed as she felt. Her legs parted slowly, and she was trembling.

Through the procedure she kept her eyes screwed shut and her wrists strained against the chains. Her body was hot from shame, and tears leaked down her cheeks to her earlobes.

When she heard Dr. Tancredi pull back and remove her gloves, her legs slammed together and she took in a great shuddering breath.

"I'm, uh, putting your underwear and pants back on, Micaela."

"Okay." Her voice came out a squeak.

She didn't relax until she was fully clothes, and she could see her wrists had been rubbed raw.

"I want to talk with you about what I found," Dr. Tancredi began as she pulled a chair up beside Micaela.

"Alright."

Before the doctor began, she started taking blood pressure and heart rate.

"Your hymen is still intact."

"What a fan_tastic_ way to start." Micaela could feel herself relaxing. "Yes, it is. I'm a virgin."

"It'll be a good indicator as to whether you've been…."

Micaela filled in the blank that Dr. Tancredi left. "Whether I've been raped or not."

"Yes." She continued with her exam. "Well, your vitals are good. Officer Bellick should be in to get you."

Micaela was left alone, cuffed to a bed and unable to think of anything but how violated she felt. She'd probably have a nervous breakdown if she ever _did_ get raped. And wasn't that just hilarious? A mother murderer thinking herself sane enough that a nervous breakdown was possible. She chuckled aloud.

"What's so funny, Casey?" The guard – hadn't Dr. Tancredi called him Bellick? – was unlocking her cuffs and pulling her from the bed. Now her wrists were linked together and she was being herded back to GenPop. He jabbed her with his nightstick. "Well?"

"You certainly know how to treat a girl, don't you, _Bellick_?"

He smacked his nightstick hard on her shoulder as they approached the middle of the floor. She could feel all eyes on her as she fell to the ground. Her knees stung from impact, and she folded in on herself as she tried to hold her aching shoulder.

"Get up, Casey."

She struggled to her feet, gritting her teeth and feeling her body shake. She remained silent until she was back in her cell, uncuffed and behind bars. Oh, she might've been a coward but she wasn't stupid.

She flopped onto her bed, rubbing her injured shoulder and muttering curses. She would get back at him, she wasn't quite sure when, but it would happen. And it would be grand.

"_Well, well_…" The mattress above her creaked and her cellmate dropped down beside her. He'd already readministered his make-up. "Just what did you do to get Officer Bellick in such a tizzy?"

Before answered, Micaela had to wonder if people other than Jamie used the word tizzy. "He's had a problem since I first got here."

"Now, Honey, that is _not_ how you play the game in here."

Micaela wasn't sure she'd really provoked anyone, least of all Bellick. He'd gotten her in his sights, and he'd said so himself that he'd make her life a living hell.

"I didn't mean to offend him." Her voice came out soft, and by Jamie's reaction, she guessed he took it to mean she was terrified.

His arms wrapped around her and he began to sway back and forth. "Oh, Honey, the only thing I can think of to help is taking T-Bag's pocket."

Micaela's only thought was whether or not STDs could be spread through hugs.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own Prison Break.

Thanks to Victoria Nope for the review :)

* * *

Everyone had seen Bellick hit her. She knew because when she was ushered out to the yard after she was allowed a shower, several cons mentioned it to her.

"Hey, Honey, that big bad Bellick hurt you? How 'bout you come over here so I can _comfort_ you?" Followed by laughter or catcalls from cronies.

"How about I _really_ give your shoulder a reason to hurt?" More obnoxious laughter.

"Come over here and I'll massage that pain away, Honey! You'll feel so good you'll wanna return the favor!" They whistled.

Amidst all of it, Micaela had to wonder how "Honey" had caught on so quickly. She'd been at Fox River for maybe a day? Jamie had spread it quicker than a cheerleader can spread crabs. And there, again, was the thought of Jamie and STDs.

"Eh, mamí, saw you go down. You aight?"

Micaela turned to the Hispanic man who'd approached her, suspicious. "You're not gonna give me some sexual innuendo about my shoulder, are you?"

He looked almost offended. "Hell no! I wouldn't make advanced on _anyone_!" He grinned, then, and his eyes sparkled. "I got my Marícruz and she's all I need."

"Alright. Um." She held out her hand. "I'm Micaela."

"Fernando Sucre. Nice to meet you, Mickey."

They parted ways when Sucre spotted his cellmate – a man he called Michael Scofield – and ran over to speak with him. Standing in the middle of the yard, Micaela suddenly felt vulnerable and alone. They had yelled at her, yes, but none had approached. Until Sucre. He'd broken the illusion that she should be left alone, and now they were probably going to swam. Oh, and then she'd have a time trying to explain her gang rape, unable to provide any information because she didn't know a single person's Goddamn name.

She moaned, running her hands through her hair and crouching down. Yes, somewhere along the line she'd made a mistake.

"Now, isn't that just _music_ to y'alls ears? The moans of a man simply can_not_ compare to those of a woman." The voice came from behind her, and it burned her skin. It was a slow, smooth southern drawl twisting her stomach.

She'd always been a sucker for an accent.

Micaela stood and turned to face the stranger slowly. She knew she was blushing and she didn't care. It was that accent, so buttery and soft.

"That," she began, eyeing him up and down, "is a fan_tastic _way to start the conversation."

He gave great belly laughs, throwing his head back in delight. "Why, ain't you a feisty one."

"I guess that's one way to put it," she answered, turning to face him completely.

His face was thin and he had most of his hair despite a receding hairline. It was brown and unkempt, his eyes about the same shade. She couldn't decide if he was lean or simply lanky, but she knew he was thin. He walk with swagger, his shoulder hunched but back, his hips popped forward.

The look in his eye told her he would devour her if he got the chance, and if she let herself, she would enjoy it more than anything she'd ever experienced previously.

"What do they call you, Honey?" he asked, biting his lower lip.

"Micaela Casey. You?"

"Theodore Bagwell." He circled her slowly, not touching her. "And tell me how a girl such as youself found her way into Fox River."

With that voice, she would tell him anything he wanted to know. Her knees were losing their strength hearing his accent wash over her. "Murder in the second degree."

Theodore stopped circling, choosing instead to grin at her. "What, your boyfriend do you wrong, Honey?"

"No, actually my m-"

His body was suddenly much closer to her and he had one pocket turned out to her. "Because if you take my pocket, Honey, I can guarantee I'll do you _right_."

The innuendo made everything very real for Micaela. She took a quick step back and shook her head. "No, thank you."

One of the men in the group stepped forward and laid claim to the pocket. He shot her a nasty look as he snuggled close to Theodore.

"Besides, it looks like you've already got a plaything," Micaela pointed out. "You don't need me."

"Oh, Honey," he drawled, "I might not _need_ you, but that don't mean I don't _want_ you."

She had no comeback. All she could do was stumble away, feeling her body prickle with heat at his words. She'd felt that way before, of course (she was seventeen, for chrissake!) but not to such an extent.

Or toward an older man who was also a convict.

She cursed his southern drawl and her hormones, greatly relieved when yard time ended and she was back in her cell. When Jamie pounced on her, she almost wished she was back outside with Theodore.

"So did you take T-Bag's pocket?" he asked, pulling her down so they both sat on her bunk.

It looked like Jamie was becoming her sassy gay best friend.

"T-Ba- oh. Oh, you mean Theodore?" Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure whether T-Bag was a clever nickname for a man whose name was Theodore Bagwell. It just didn't seem creative.

"No one calls him Theodore!" Jamie scolded.

"I am not calling him T-Bag," she answered. "Maybe I'll call him Theo."

He scowled at her, one brow raised expectantly.

Micaela gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't take his stupid pocket."

"Oh, Honey, why not?" he asked, pulling her into a hug again. "It would give you some protection from Officer Bellick!"

"Because, Jamie," she muttered, suddenly furious. "I'm not a _whore_."

Micaela pushed away from her cellmate as the doors opened back up to signal lunch. She gave him a meaningful look before leaving for the cafeteria.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own Prison Break.

Thanks for reviews, favorites, and alerts.

* * *

The man called T-Bag didn't generally like to be ignored, but at the moment he almost found it endearing. He sat halfway across the cafeteria from Honey, eyes trained on her. He knew she knew he was watching her knew her skin burned for him.

Yet she didn't acknowledge him. She picked at her tray with an unbecoming frown on her face and a hand knotted into her hair. Honey might not have known it, but hair as long as hers was a safety issue. She'd do well to cut it.

Suddenly she threw down her fork and rubbed her face, shaking her head before fighting her denim jacket off her body. She wore a white tank top underneath, and revealing her curved body to the inmates around her was a bad idea as well.

A large man, more bulky fat than muscle, stood and approached her. T-Bag's eyes flickered back and forth between the man (Richard Halloway, and investment banker arrested for fraud and then bribing a witness. He only had three months of his sentence left, and honestly wasn't much of a threat) and the girl (Micaela Casey. Honey. Murder in the second degree).

"Why are you sittin' by yourself, Honey?"

Honey looked up at him, and T-Bag saw she had her fork tight in her hand.

"What's it to you?" The cafeteria had hushed enough that her reply could be heard. "It's none of your damn business."

"Watch your mouth, girl," Halloway snarled, leaning over the table to intimidate her.

Honey looked unimpressed. "Or what? You'll watch it for me?"

Guards shifted against the walls of the cafeteria. From the corner of his eye, T-Bag saw Pretty stand up as well. The southerner did not move. Honey could hold her own against a fat banker.

"You don't wanna mess with me, Honey," he growled, wireframe glasses sliding down his nose.

A crude smile slowly slid into place, and the grip she had on her fork tightened as she stood to meet his gaze. "No, _you_ don't want to mess with _me_."

Halloway's lip lifted in a sneer and he made to lunge at her. The guards and Pretty moved as the two collided, a squeal tearing from the fat man's lungs. He wasn't on her for long before the guards hauled him up and away, Pretty helping Honey to stand.

Her tank top, previously white, was spotted with blood, and she no longer had her fork. She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest as Halloway was led away, putting pressure on the new puncture wounds in his neck.

Officer Bellick stormed to Honey, snarling and cuffing her wrists before dragging her away. Pretty's fingers lingered on Honey's shoulder, and for T-Bag, jealousy surged.


	6. Chapter 6

I don't own Prison Break.

* * *

Her little "stunt" as the officials liked to call it had landed her two days in the Shu. It didn't matter that she said her attacking had been in self-defense, Bellick had done well to tell Warden Pope she'd instigated her attacker. Pope, who didn't appreciate inmates being violent with one another anyway, had decided minimal time in isolation would be more effective than none at all.

Micaela had no problem admitting to stabbing the fat man with her fork. She just didn't like that he'd been quick enough to give her a black eye. Thanks to Bellick she'd been dropped off in the Shu before Dr. Tancredi could check her out or even give her an ice pack.

Given a few days to black in the dark, it could be a nasty bruise. Micaela didn't know how bad it looked, just how bad it felt. Her left eye was swollen to a squint, and the slightest pressure made her head pound.

She sighed, laying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling, hearing the other inmates through the drain in the floor. For two days, she didn't make a sound.


	7. Chapter 7

It was time for morning count when Micaela was led back to GenPop. All eyes were on her and she imagined Bellick had something to do with that. She walked with her head held high, and she could hear the convicts hissing.

The left side of her face, from her brow to halfway down her cheek, was purple. She'd seen how bad it really was when she'd finally been allowed a shower before being led to her cell.

The look of horror on Jamie's face as she stepped up next to him was priceless. He looked almost to be in tears.

After count, they were moved to the cafeteria for breakfast, and Jamie smothered her until she threatened to strangle him in his sleep.

"I was just _worried_ about you," he simpered. His eyes fell on a group of men that were looking their way and he sniffed. "I guess I'll just go give my attention to someone who'll _appre_ciate it."

Micaela watched him get up with his tray and head over to the other group, his hips moving with an exaggerated sway. She went back to her food, not caring about how Jamie chose to live his prison life.

She made a stab at her scrambled eggs, missing them by an inch. Frustrated, she dropped her fork, moved her tray away, and rested her forehead on the table.

"Eh, Mickey, you're not looking too good."

Micaela glanced to her left, not seeing the person who spoke to her but knowing he was there. God, she would hate to be blind.

"That's a fan_tastic_ way to start the conversation," she replied. "And I'm not feeling too good, either."

"Well, you're 'bout to feel worse," Sucre answered. "There's a race war startin, and there's talk of Halloway lookin' to get payback."

She was silent for a long moment before sitting up and turning so she could look him in the eye. "Can you find me a shank?"

Sucre waved his finger in front of his lips and hissed at her. "Quiet down, Mickey! You want the guards to hear you?"

"Look, can you get one for me or not?"

He huffed and looked away from her. His lips rolled in a pout before he finally muttered, "Probably."

She smiled. "Thanks, Sucre."

"You're gonna owe me big," he answered.

"If you say so."

"It'll take a day or two," he said as he stood, "but I'll get it to you before you need it."

"Perfect." She waved as he walked away, deciding to make another attempt at eating her breakfast.

She hadn't gotten far before it was time to go back to her cell.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

* * *

Micaela Casey had decided she wouldn't be happy for yard time for much longer. If it got much colder out (and it would, she knew) then she would be greatly opposed to being outside.

This is what she thought about as she lay in the grass, trying to make shapes out of clouds. She also thought about Sucre, who was in the Shu for being caught with the shank he'd prepared for her. Micaela felt guilty about that one, but she figured she would be forgiven eventually. As the clouds drifted, she wondered about Michael Scofield, who was being harassed by Theo lately.

The race riot was going to happen soon, Micaela could feel it; could almost taste it in the air for all the bitterness. She'd be happy once it was over.

Unfortunately Micaela didn't know just how soon the riot would really be happening.

Jamie had prepared himself by filing down the handle of his toothbrush ("Just for self defense," he'd said to her) and Micaela saw him stick it up his sleeve just before last count. Now? It was happening now? She had nothing – no weapon to protect herself with. She would just have to be lucky.

This final thought seemed to trigger the opening of the cell doors. She knew she was trembling as she stood beside Jamie, her breathing erratic and her eyes darting back and forth in anticipation.

A single person stepped out of line, and everyone pounced like wild animals.

Micaela stumbled back to get out of the way, her back hitting the open door to her cell. She looked back and forth and then up, her eyes meeting Halloway's. He lunged for the stairs as she ducked back into her cell.

She didn't have a lot of room to maneuver, and she knew she'd be dead if she got cornered any worse than she already was. Halloway appeared behind her, his girth filling the doorway. He had a makeshift knife in his hand: a piece of broken glass tied to a wooden handle. As he took a step forward, Micaela froze up. There was nowhere for her to run or hide.

He jumped at her, and she did the only thing she could think of. She brought her leg up and kicked him as hard as she could right in the balls. He dropped at her feet, releasing his weapon in favor of cradling his testicles. Micaela pounced on the shank and held it in front of her.

Halloway squeaked a slur of curses as he struggled to stand. When he saw she had his glass in her hand, his eyes narrowed. He had been reduced to an aggressive animal, snapping at her and then lunging for her as gas cans rolled outside.

He barreled into her, slamming her into the metal skeleton of the bunk bed, and she almost lost her grip on the shank. She'd be black and blue once it was all over. If she lived, that is.

An instinctual desire to live overwhelmed her, and she stabbed out with the glass just as she'd done with the fork. Micaela stuck Halloway in the neck a total of nineteen times, the majority of which were delivered after the fat banker had stopped moving, his glasses askew on his ear and eyes dull. She shuddered from her stomach out, spinning around to throw up in the toilet before collapsing behind it. She threw Halloway's shank, listening to it skitter across the floor outside her cell. Smoke was pouring in, burning her eyes and nose and throat.

After all the surviving inmates were locked back in their cells, Halloway's body was removed. The punishment for the riot was a forty-eight hour lockdown.

Micaela didn't think Halloway's bloodstain would ever come out of the cement floor. Right in front of her bed. She cried herself to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

Also, thanks a bunch for the favs, watches, and reviews!

* * *

"Hoo-_wee_ is it rank in here or what?"

God, why was Jamie talking?

"Oh, Honey, we got twelve more hours and the smell's only gonna get worse."

Micaela continued to stare at the bloodstain in the floor, seeing herself kill Halloway over and over again in her mind's eye. She'd made another bad decision.

The bed above her creaked and Jamie appeared before her. With his face devoid of make-up he actually looked masculine. The worried crease between his brows told a different story, though.

"Honey, what's got you so down in the dumps?"

Micaela's brows furrowed. Hadn't Jamie seen the guards remove Halloway's corpse from their cell? Wouldn't _any_one be disturbed by something like that? By cold-blooded murder?

"I _killed_ a man, Jamie," she whispered.

He smiled at her. "And it was impressive, Honey. A man three times your size? And you even killed him with his own weapon."

She looked at him in horror, slowly sitting up so they were eye to eye.

"Don't look at me like that," he snorted, waving his hand. "Everyone is talking about it, and no one has anything but kind words."

"_Kind words_?" she hissed. "What the hell is _wrong_ with these people?"

"Honey, the people in here are convicts. We're a different breed."

Swallowing hard, Micaela buried her face in her hands.

Jamie put his hand on her shoulder. "This is a good thing, Honey. There's not a man in her who looks at you and only sees breasts and thighs. You've drawn first blood, Honey, and they know you're dangerous."

She brushed her hair back and glared. Jamie withdrew, eyeing her before huffing and climbing back onto his bunk. Things were silent between them.

"Y'know, a lot of men lost a lot of money."

God, why was Jamie talking _again_?

She sighed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Halloway talked a big game. He had a pool going on what would happen to you during the riot."

"Wait, you mean..." Micaela's brows pulled together and she thought about what that meant. "You mean they were betting on whether or not I was gonna die?"

Jamie paused. "No... no one thought you were going to die."

"Then what?"

"Well, y'see, Halloway said he would teach you lesson you'd never forget. No one believed him so he started taking bets. Y'know, whether or not he'd do it."

"They took bets on if I was gonna get _raped_ or not?" Her voice came out a whisper and she realized a moment later that she was crying.

"Honey?"

Her body shook with sobs but she couldn't help but smile. Halloway was dead. Halloway was an example of what would happen if someone tried to force her hand.

It didn't change the fact that his blood was on her hands; was staining her floor.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclarimer: I do not own Prison Break.

* * *

Theodore Bagwell had only been this griefstricken once in his life. When he'd seen Maytag in Pretty's arms he had almost cried. As irritating as the bitch had been, he had been family. T-Bag did not take well to the people who killed his family.

By the end of the lockdown, grief had boiled down to rage.

Breakfast and showertime passed in a blur, time moving quickly. When yardtime came around, everything became crystal clear.

There, lying in the grass, was Honey. Her hair twisted around her head, her hands laid on her stomach. She was drowning in blue denim, the only exposed skin was that of her face, neck, and fingers.

As he approached her, he saw just how childish she appeared to be as she looked up at the sky.

"What do we have here?" he hummed, moving to stand over her. "Looks to me like you got your head in the clouds, Honey."

She looked up at him, frowning a little. "Hi, Theo."

"You mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the grass beside her.

Frowning still, she shrugged. "I don't own the yard."

"Once can never be too careful," he told her as he sat.

"I guess not," she answered. She tilted her head to get a good look at him before asking, "Where's your pocket leech?"

Her words stung, but T-Bag smiled it away. "Why? You interested in the position, Honey?"

"No," she grumbled, "and you didn't answer my question."

T-Bag noted the color in Honey's cheeks, seeing the contradiction to her negative answer.

"Pretty killed 'im in the riot."

Honey flinched, biting her lip. "I'm sorry."

"For what, Honey?"

"For bringing it up. For calling him a leech."

"It's alright." He would've touched her if he didn't think every guard would've been on him instantly.

"Theo?" Honey asked after a small silence. "Who's Pretty?"

"_Scofield_," he seethed, catching sight of the man across the yard.

Honey sat up, brows furrowed and frown still in place. "You mean _Michael_ Scofield? There's no way."

"Just like there was no way you coulda killed Halloway, right?"

She scowled, looking away from him o try and hide her emotion. It looked to be an attempt to stop herself from seeming brittle, but it wasn't working.

"Now, now, Honey. You're still alive, ain't that somethin' to rejoice about?" It was a feeble attempt to console her, and T-Bag saw she did not appreciate it when she glared. There was still evidence of the black eye Halloway had given her.

"I'm lucky I'm still _intact_. Jamie said killing me was never his intention - he was going to rape me and then let me bleed out on the floor of my cell." She choked on a sob and hid her face in her knees.

Honey was a virgin. T-Bag's eyes traced the curve of her back; the curl of her hair. He smothered a grin.

He'd just have to do something about that, wouldn't he.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Prison Break.

Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows on this story, you guys. I'd like to mention that when I started this story I had in mind short, sweet little chapters so I could sort of update more frequently, but I'm sure as more happens the chapters will get longer. Also, I'm glad chapter ten made a few people laugh, even if I'd sort of meant the last line to be more foreboding and creepy than funny. Also, if you notice anyone acting out of character, could you let me know? I'd appreciate it. Thanks!

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Micaela Casey had been in Fox River Penitentiary for less than two weeks before her name was in the newspaper again. She didn't know it, but she was infamous.

The story this time was the brutal slaying of investment banker Richard Halloway. Journalists would admit that his death was self-defense and that she would not be charged with the crime, but they liked to focus on the fact that she was still only seventeen and she'd stabbed a man three times her size in the neck nineteen times. They also liked to mention the previous murder of loving mother Cheyenne Casey, though details remained quiet. Of course every publication stressed to the public that the death was tragic and terrible and no one deserved to suffer such a fate.

Micaela Casey would have begged to differ, but in the case of her incarceration she still had no voice.


	12. Chapter 12

She almost could have smiled. There wasn't even a trace of the black eye he'd had, but when she moved she could feel all the bruises on her back from when she'd been shoved into her bed frame. She sighed and glanced at the blood stain in the concrete. There was always a reminder.

Micaela ate breakfast alone and slowly. Later she would take a trip to the library and pick out a book to try and distract herself with. She didn't want to keep thinking about Halloway.

After lunch she sat in her cell with the book she'd picked out, reading about Alex the Large in A Clockwork Orange. If she were still in school she'd be reading it, and Micaela desperately needed the touch of home.

"Whatcha doin, Honey?"

Micaela bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. "I'm reading a book, Jamie."

"What book, smarty pants?"

"A Clockwork Orange."

He hummed in interest. "Any good?"

"No, it's stupid and confusing." She could taste blood.

"Then why are you reading it, Honey?"

She wanted to throw the book at him. "I would've been reading it at school. Now please leave me alone."

He huffed. "You've been grumpy lately."

"And you've been annoying," she muttered. Once Jamie left she stood and spat blood into the sink. She stared at the rivulet of blood and thought for a while. Then she laid down and went back to her book.

She was more than halfway through with it when she went to dinner. She was rather surprised when Michael came over and sat beside her.

"Hey," she muttered.

"Hey."

They lapsed into silence.

"Would you be interested in moving into my cell?" he asked.

"Did you kill Theo's pocket leech?" she responded.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Why do you need a new cellmate?"

Micaela watched his jaw work. "Sucre's decided to move out."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh. Uh, I suppose I could."

Michael sighed in what seemed to be relief.

"I imagine you can go talk to Pope in the morning," he said. "Ask him to transfer to my cell."

"Why me?"

"I trust you," he replied. She watched as he stood and limped away.

As it were, when she went to speak to Pope she learned that Michael had already been given a new cellmate courtesy of Officer Bellick. She'd let herself get excited at the prospect of moving away from Jamie. Moving in with Michael. Being _close_ to Michael.

She went back to her book, needing a distraction from the self loathing she was starting to feel.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break.

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In a few days time Sucre was back in Michael's cell and T-Bag was out of the infirmary. When she saw his shiner and split lip she nearly reached out to touch him. If she had, T-Bag didn't know what he would've done. She looked so pretty and innocent with her black eye gone. Oh, how he looked forward to the moment when he would slip between her thighs.

She fussed over him so sweetly, asking who'd done it and if he was really okay. She hardly noticed she was following him around the yard and back to his cell. Where a crowd of his family were gathered. His first day back, and it appeared he was being greeted with a present. Honey had gone silent and wary beside him, not liking the look of the crowd.

When they turned to see inside the cell, T-Bag noticed a slight shift in Honey. Her brows furrowed and her head tilted and she bit her lip so softly he shivered. She liked his new cellmate, and that was just fine with him.

"Do you wanna go say hi, Honey?" he asked, as if consulting a child. And she was a child, he remembered, and she was so sweet when she looked up.

"I - um, okay."

Honey walked forward with clear apprehension. T-Bag's cell was unfamiliar territory, and he thought it a small victory when she crossed the threshold.

"Hi, I'm Micaela," she said. She extended a small hand to him and he shook it.

He whispered to her while avoiding eye contact. She murmured back to him, leaning almost to his ear, and T-Bag felt a lance of jealousy in his gut. His eyes narrowed as they talked quietly, Honey even kneeling down in front of where he was sitting, one of her slight hands placed nonchalantly atop of his knee.

No, this just wouldn't do.


End file.
